Love of a Different Lifetime
by alicat54
Summary: In another time and place, Wade would have gone back to Weasel's bar and met the love of his life, Vanessa. However, in this life, predicated by a squeaky skateboard wheel, he met Peter instead. spideypool
…

No one ever mentions why being a superhero sucks.

It's not the tragic back stories or world altering crisis's, it was time management.

For example, Peter Parker, 24, sleep deprived since donning a web based costume when he was sixteen, had to seriously cut down on his…everything in order to swing around the city at odd hours.

Don't get him wrong, Peter LOVED being Spiderman.

Just, sometimes, the having to take two extra years to finish his biochemistry degree, taking a job he was over qualified for at the Bugle for it's flexible hours, and pinching pennies for rent and food could be trying.

So, on this particular day, Peter celebrated his rare free evening, not by doing any of the work threatening to crush his rickety Ikea desk (super duper senior-itis had long set in), and instead decided to take a nostalgic skate across town to his usual patrol start, instead of swinging.

The skateboard had been through a lot in its long life, having stuck with the hero since high school. It was held together by duck tape, hope, and magic. So it couldn't really be blamed for giving up the ghost, at long long last, as its owner zoomed across the streets in the less than savory parts of New York.

Now, usually Peter Parker, having the miraculous senses and reflexes of his spidery alter ego, would have been able to twist at the last minute to avoid crashing into the idiot, who thought it was a great idea to go walking in the middle of a skate park.

Unfortunately on this night, to compliment the already fantastic day, his board decided it had suffered enough abuse at the hero's hands, and the wobbly wheel Peter kept meaning to replace when he got home gave out, causing the hero's trajectory to lurch forwards in a splayed fall.

Peter had half a moment of clarity where he probably could have done…something, but his sleep jumbled mind could barely summon enough energy to shift into the needed 'Spiderman Mode' for such an effort to bare any fruit. Thus, the young man found himself with a face full of leather, before crashing to the ground.

The body beneath him groaned. "Ouch."

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" Peter cried, surreptitiously trying to check whether he accidentally brained the guy he just almost ran over with his skateboard, before scrambling to his feet.

The fallen body resolved itself into a set of broad shoulders with precisely military cut hair and a raised eyebrow that could have given Jameson a run for his money.

Peter internally began cursing, as the fluster creeping into his mannerisms shifted to a completely new flavor of embarrassment. "I'm so sorry." He said again, offering the stranger and hand up. "Are you ok? Is there anything I could do?"

The (hot) guy accepted Peter's hand. His other eyebrow rose to join the first at the ease the seemingly string bean kid pulled him to his feet. A (cute) smile touched the corners of his lips, and he didn't let the hand go once fully vertical.

"Well." Shit, even his voice sounded like chocolate (the kind with honey nuts). "I don't know how I will ever recover from the injury of being lightly knocked to the pavement in the middle of a skate park. I think it's terminal. I suppose the only thing I need is someone to comfort me in my final hours."

Fuuuuuuuuu- "My plans for the evening have been derailed," Peter's mouth said, and his treacherous hands releasing the (calloused strong) palm of the other to indicate the fractured pieces of the board on the ground.

"Really?" The guy's eyes lit with hazel gold mirth. "What a coincidence. We can go look for some company together!"

"But where would we find someone at this hour?"

He hummed, gaze never leaving Peter's. "We could try Palace Park?"

The young man wobbled his shoulders in mock indecision, taking a long moment to sweep the broken wheel and wood into his backpack, before straightening back up. "Well, I guess I could always use another Tiny Transformer Bot from the prize table."

That smile should have been illegal in the northern hemisphere. "Wade Wilson," Wade said, holding out a gentlemanly arm.

Peter fumbled, before slipping his hand into the crook of his elbow. "Peter Parker."

…

In another time and place, Wade would have gone back to Weasel's bar and met the love of his life, Vanessa. However, in this life, predicated by a squeaky skateboard wheel, he met Peter instead.

Peter knew he was in trouble around the time Wade single handedly got the all time high score in Skee-Ball, but it wasn't until the argument over which power ring transformer had the best run in an old 90s TV show that he knew he was in love.

There would always be Gwen. Peter still visited her and her father's grave on the anniversary of…anyway, after Gwen came Mary Jane, the fire cracker who lit up the hero's life in ways he didn't believe himself capable of anymore. He had loved her deeply and sincerely, but then she got kidnaped and threatened a few more times than Spiderman's psyche could handle.

Peter knew he had to break things off with her when he found himself seriously contemplating giving her a tracker and guarding her windowsill. She understood, god bless her, and they left on mutually friendly terms. Peter secretly though that was because he had woken them both in a cold sweat too often, but he never asked.

And after Mary Jane had come… an alien invasion. That had been a fun, in an "O Mai GOD EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE", kind of way.

And with the alien invasion came, not only a brief rise in Spidey's public rating (saving a subway car downtown from space turtle whales does that), but also the realization that Peter had a type.

Specifically, quick witted bad ass (and nice assed) individuals with a perchance for danger. Incidentally, Peter had his first sexual crisis, when he found himself inappropriately interested in the footage of Captain America running around in skin tight everything saving civilians.

The young man tried to brush off his apparent attraction by citing how everyone and (especially) their grandmother had a crush on Captain America.

Then Flash Thompson happened.

Specifically, the former bully tracked down his former victim as apart of his self acceptance therapy, to explain how he was unable to cope with his confused feelings in High School, and took it out on the object of his affections. Flash then gave him the number of his LGBTQ group sessions, and left, still spouting profuse apologies.

On something slightly more than a whim, Peter went, listened, and talked.

Lying in bed that night, he thought, "Well, I guess this is me then. Ok."

Of course, it was more complicated than that, but that's not the story you came here for.

…

"Minigolf?"

The corner of Peter's mouth twitched, as he tried to pick out a club with the same gravity one might a coffin. "You can't just go to Palace Park without playing minigolf, Wade. That's just barbaric."

"Me Wade, you Peter." The older man grunted, hunched like a lumbering ape.

The hero snorted and lightly punched his arm. "Pick your weapon Tarzan."

"Usually I stick with my personal driver." Languidly he pulled a tiny metal pole with a hot pink handle from the bin. "But I suppose this will have to do."

"Hm, maybe you can show me later."

The pair sidled to the first course, a simple straight patch of grass.

"Bet I can get a better score than you." Peter challenged, club across his shoulders with his arms draped over the ends.

"You're on." Wade said, placing his hot pink golf ball on the synthetic grass. "Though I warn you, I have impeccable aim." He swung his arm back like a pendulum.

"Yo mamma so dumb, she thought Tiger Woods was a forest in India."

His arm spasmed, causing his swing to go wide, sending the ball clear out of the course and across the sidewalk.

Peter carefully kept his eyes on the score sheet as his companion turned around, expression playfully murderous. He scratched a line with a short pencil. "So, that's one point against you."

The older man's face split into a toothy grin. "Oh, it is on, baby boy."

The hero handed over the sheet and put his own red ball in place. His voice gained a cheesy announce like quality. "A new challenger has stepped up to the plate, but is he worthy?"

"Yo mamma though so last night."

The ball clattered into the hole. Peter hissed in mock sympathy. "It appears that his talk is better than his game, ladies and gentlemen."

Wade's lips twisted as the two walked to retrieve their balls. "What can I say, I got distracted by the view."

Peter squeaked as a slap to his backside startled him, and his partner waltzed to the next course.

The night continued to unfold into the most epic Yo Mama fight Peter had ever participated in, and considering he had been bantering on a professional level since starting the whole super hero thing, that was saying something.

"Yo mama so fat, she ate the entire Green Lantern corp."

The pink ball danced past the windmill, and clicked into a perfect hole in one. "Oh come on, you can do better than that!"

Peter shrugged. "I'll admit, not my best work." He swung his club over his shoulder and perused the score chart (which now sported several red and pink unicorn drawings, curtesy of Wade's pocket crayons). "Still, looks like I won." He brandished the paper in mock apology.

"Still, this has been practically stimulating." Wade drawled, mimicking his posture.

Peter side eyed the broad shouldered frame, casually beginning an idle walk to drop off his club. "Too bad you never found that someone to spend the last hours of your life with."

Leather creaked as his back stretched and shifted in a shrug. "I think I've got a few hours left in me."

The red club clattered as it was dropped in the bin by the office. "I suppose there's still hope then. Though, I must ask, what do you plan of doing with your last hours, Mr. Wilson?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

He shrugged non chalantly. "No not really, though if you insist on chattering my ear off-"

Pink joined red with a sharp clatter, and an arm snaked its way across the young man's waist. "How about we wrap up this euphemism and get out of here."

Peter leaned into the touch. "If you insist."

…

…

…

A/N:

O my god, i'm a teenage girl. Just, I can't.

Timeline:

2016: DP movie

2015: cancer diagnosis + weapons X

2014: Meet Peter (flashback scenes from movie) Peter is 24!

2012: Avengers

2010: Iron Man 1

2006: Peter becomes Spiderman (think Andrew Garfield movies, but kept more under wraps)

…


End file.
